Page 2 of Better Than Baby (Better Than Stories #9)

Cassie’s baby was six weeks old now. His due date was February fourteenth…

a Valentine baby. We didn’t know if he’d been born that day, but he might as well have been and it was a cruel twist of fate for Aaron in particular.

He loved all things having to do with Valentine’s Day, and he’d fallen in love with the idea that this baby would be born on a day dedicated to love. Sappy, maybe, but also sweet.

February fourteenth had been a very somber day for us this year.

Our friends had rallied around us, though.

Curt and Jack had invited us over on Valentine’s Day, along with Jay and Peter and their two kids, and Paul and Seth, who’d made the trip from London.

It had been a lovely night with great people, good food, and diverting conversation.

We’d laughed and smiled as if everything had been okay.

But on the drive home, Aaron had burst into tears.

I’d love to claim that I’d been strong and offered comfort like a fucking hero, but I’d been equally wrecked. My throat had ached, and my eyes had stung with pent-up emotion. This was supposed to have been the second-best day of our lives after our wedding, and now…well, it had sucked.

We were doing better now. Much better.

Aaron still had heavy moments of silence, mourning something that never was. I supposed I did too. But we’d leaned on each other and slowly, we’d begun to heal.

We started seeing a family therapist regularly, and that helped also.

She was the one who’d asked if we’d thought about adopting a pet.

And yeah…we definitely had. We’d both grown up with animals, and we loved the idea of having a furry friend around.

Our schedules were busy, though, and we traveled for our jobs.

We figured we’d think more seriously about getting a dog or cat after we had kids.

“Maybe consider not waiting,” our therapist suggested gently.

“I wouldn’t normally recommend taking a trip to an animal shelter or talking to a breeder, but in your case…

it could be a matter of mixing up the order of your family plan and giving yourselves a new, positive focus.

Of course, adopting a pet is a big decision too.

An animal isn’t magically going to erase your pain.

They’re a lot of work. They’re demanding, and they need your time and energy.

Weigh the pros and cons, and think about it. ”

We’d taken her advice and here we were, idling outside of Yearwood Kennel—“considering” adopting a puppy.

“Ready?”

Aaron rubbed his palms together and wiggled in his seat. “Yes! Let’s meet Lola BridgeLabrada or Marilyn MonLabrada or…maybe we should keep things easy and just name him Chris Pine. Thoughts?”

He was out of the car and halfway up the path before I had a chance to respond.

An apple-cheeked middle-aged woman with short ash-blond hair greeted us with a sunny smile.

“The name’s Margo. Nice to meet you both.

A lot has happened in the past twenty-four hours.

Two more pups found their forever home, which leaves us with one left in the litter.

He won’t be free for long, so I’m glad you stopped in to meet him. Come this way.”

Aaron nudged my elbow and mouthed, Chris Pine , then followed Margo outside to a small unit attached to the main building. She continued to a fenced-in grassy area where a docile Lab sat in the shade surrounded by five bouncing, yipping red furballs.

I was pretty sure I’d never seen anything cuter in my life.

They were stubby and goofy with adorable ears, and a lot of personality.

Margo explained that the litter was seven and a half weeks old.

Three puppies had already been picked up, and the four with yellow stars on their ribboned collars were spoken for.

Which left the smallest of the bunch…a chubby little fellow with curious eyebrows.

Margo opened the gate. “Come on in and say hi to the little rascals.”

“Oh. My. God! Are you the cutest cutie pies in the entire universe?” Aaron gasped in delight, sinking to his knees to greet the friendly pups. He zeroed in on the unspoken-for puppy, scratching the top of his head and snickering when the pup nipped his finger. “Someone’s feisty.”

“Careful,” Margo warned. “He’s got sharp teeth.”

“Me too, honey. Can I hold you? I’ll be gentle, I promise.” Aaron scooped up the little fox red Lab and cradled him in his arms. “How are you, little friend? Tell me all about you.”

The puppy stared at my husband, his expressive brows lifting from one eye to the other. His ears perked up as he cocked his head, and damn it…cute wasn’t a strong enough word.

I crouched next to Aaron and rubbed the puppy’s belly. He sniffed my hand and licked it. “Hey, there, little guy.”

“I think he likes us, Matty.” Aaron set the puppy down and pet one of his siblings. “Introduce us to your brothers and sisters, CP. Something tells me you can handle this crew. Are they cool? Do they play nice?”

“His name, should we decide to adopt him, will never be Chris Pine,” I grumbled good-naturedly.

Aaron tossed a teasing wink over his shoulder and followed the band of energetic pups.

“Chris Pine?” Margo asked.

“Inside joke. Don’t worry…it won’t stick.” I brushed my hands on my jeans and changed the subject. We’d done our homework and knew the kennel had a great reputation, but I was curious about their operation. And to be perfectly honest, I’d had no idea there was such a thing as a fox red Lab.

“They’re genetically yellow Labs with a reddish coat,” Margo explained. “Wonderful dogs—playful, friendly, sociable. And they’re loyal companions.”

“High-energy too.” I grinned at the puppies nipping at the buckles on Aaron’s designer boots.

“True. They’re active, and they like to be near their people as often as possible. You mentioned that you work from home?”

“Not me.” I inclined my head toward Aaron. “My husband does, though.”

Margo studied the grown-ass man frolicking with the puppies. “He’s good with dogs.”

“Yeah, he is.” I dug my hands into my pockets as I pivoted to face her. “We didn’t come prepared to take a puppy home. We need to talk and—well, that should be a quick conversation. So, my question is…how long can you hold the puppy for us?”

“How long do you need?”

“Twenty-four hours.”

Margo smiled. “You got it.”

Eighteen hours later, we returned with a puppy carrier and an SUV filled to the brim with necessary new pet purchases—and went home with a new family member.

We unzipped the travel carrier in the middle of the great room and sat on the floor, coaxing the puppy out with baby talk that should have been embarrassing but felt sort of natural.

“C’mere, sugar sweetie love bug,” Aaron crooned.

Okay, well…maybe it was a little over-the-top.

“Sugar sweetie love bug?”

Aaron nodded. “Also, fluffy bunny baby boy and cutie-kins cupcake and?—”

“How about a real name?”

“ Hmm . That’s tricky.” Aaron pulled the puppy onto his lap and cuddled him close. “Unless you’ve decided to entertain delicious superhero namesakes.”

I rolled my eyes. “Nope. And you have to admit, he doesn’t give Chris Pine vibes anyway.”

“True. He’s more of a Seamus or a Murphy or?—”

“Murphy! I like that.” I draped an arm over Aaron’s shoulders and scratched the puppy’s chin. “Murphy Mendez-Sulli?—”

“No, no. We should think about it some more. No reason to be hasty.”

I rested my forehead against his temple, closing my eyes for a beat. “He’s ours, Aar. No one’s going to take him away.”

He didn’t respond for a moment, and when he did his voice was thick with emotion. “I know. I know. I just don’t want to jinx anything.”

“There’s nothing to jinx, baby. This little guy is officially a member of the Mendez-Sullivan clan.” I flattened my thumb on one of his ears. “And I’m sorry, but I’m not calling him Sweetie love bug pumpkin face.”

“Sugar sweetie love bug,” he corrected, burying his nose in the puppy’s scruff. “You’re right. He’d probably protest the mushy endearments in his teens, which come relatively quickly in dog years. Let’s think. I mean, Murphy is a good name, but it needs pizzazz.”

“I’m afraid to ask, but…what kind of pizzazz?”

Aaron’s lips twisted in amusement, and the spark of mischief in his eyes was such a relief that I was ready to agree to even the wildest suggestion.

“Sir Murphy Pedro Pascaldoggalito Mendez-Sullivan, Esquire.”

I snort-laughed. “That’s a…mouthful.”

“ Mmhmm . Murph for short.”

Murph scrambled out of Aaron’s hold and toddled around the great room.

We’d done a massive remodel a couple of years ago to create an open space…

and a lot of opportunities for a curious puppy to cause trouble.

Murphy didn’t seem bent on mischief at the moment, though.

He was in exploration mode—sniffing the rug, the sofa, and the coffee table before heading into the kitchen.

We followed him to the island, steering him away from nipping the dish towel hanging from the stove. Murphy let go, sitting on his haunches to scratch his ear. Even that was adorable.

I sat on the floor and leaned against the island.

Aaron joined me, brushing my shoulder as he got comfortable. “Maybe we should tell him about the endless treat supply and if he’s still on the fence, we’ll bring out the toys and…ooh, we have to show him the yard. Murph, you’re going to lose your little puppy mind.”

“I think he’s just happy to be here, aren’t you, little guy?”

Murphy waddled between us, perched a paw on Aaron’s leg, and barked in response.

He picked Murphy up with a “Whoop” and hugged him close. “He approves!”

Aaron beamed at me—a wide, radiant grin full of sunshine and happiness. I could practically feel a puzzle piece slotting into place.

Many years ago, we’d dreamed of building a life together. We’d wanted to do it all—get married, travel, buy a house, start a family…kids and dogs and endless chaos.

Sure, plans had changed or been delayed along the way.

And while we’d weathered our share of disappointments and setbacks, we hadn’t given up.

Look at us now…sitting on the floor of the house we’d bought with our new puppy.

Maybe it wouldn’t happen tomorrow or even next year, but I had a strong feeling that someday, this dog would be our kids’ best friend.

No, I didn’t dare say any of that aloud. It wasn’t necessary, and truthfully, I was just happy to be in the moment.